by Joey W. Hill
"My lord..." she said softly, clasping it hard. "What..."
"It works with the dress." He turned her to face him, tracing the cleavage cradling the ring. "And it looks far better there than on my finger."
Her thready breath made her breasts rise beneath his touch. He followed the motion with silent appreciation. "Arch your back for me," he murmured. "Lift them higher, but otherwise stay still."
She bit down on her lip as he cupped one curve, stimulating her nipple below the edge of the low cut neckline with his thumb. Back, forth. Back, forth. It beaded under the thin bra, sent spirals of sensation shooting straight down to her pussy.
"I should have chastised Butch," he said. "These are not tits. A cow has tits. These are breasts. Beautiful, perfect breasts."
"Actually," she said unsteadily, "Cows have teats. Udders."
He arched a brow, nodded, but he kept his eyes on her breasts, watching the reaction of her nipples. "It's interesting how both of them shape to tight points when only one is stimulated. Your whole body connects to one touch, like ripples in a pond."
"Master..." Arousal soaked her panties already. If he kept this up, it would be trickling down her leg.
"That's what I want." His attention flicked up to her face. "And remember, I'll be in your mind tonight. No matter what."
She didn't have the brain cells to explain he needn't trouble himself, that she could handle things. That she just wanted him to forget their earlier exchange about Lord Graham.
"Because if I have to give one minute of thought to your care, I might find you too troublesome?"
"I didn't say — "
"No, you didn't. And I find myself torn between wanting to paddle you to the point of blood for that, and wanting to ask your forgiveness again, for bludgeoning your sense of self-worth such that you don't think you have the right to expect more of me."
He settled his hand on her throat, a light collar above the necklace. While it was difficult to think through that possessive gesture, she struggled for the words. "It's not that. There's no equity in this world, Brian. You made it clear I had to accept that."
"I did. But it's time to reevaluate that, put it in a different context. Yes, in the vampire world, there is no equity between vampires and servants." Backing her against the wall, he put himself up against her. She gasped as he slid his hand between them, beneath the skirt and panties. He began to massage and manipulate her clit and labia with clever fingers that knew everything about her body. "But we're talking about you and me, not the vampire world. What do you want, Debra? I know the answer. I see it in your mind. But I want to hear it from your lips. I want you to speak it out loud to me, not when you think I'm asleep."
He slid his hand from her, brought the fingers to her lips and made her taste herself. "That honey tells me your body is mine. Whenever, however I want it."
Her knees were turning to rubber, but he slid his arm around her waist. "I'm getting older, greedier. I want all of it. I want to push to the bottom of your heart and soul, take over all of it."
"You're scaring me. I'm scared."
He put his lips over hers, his tongue sweeping in to lash and mate with hers. Curving a strong hand over her thigh, he pulled it up to his hip and pushed his erection against her core, let her feel how aroused he already was.
"I want you a little scared, off balance. I want to prove I can be the one that drives the fear away." He bent, took a sharp nip at her throat, licking away the small drops of blood he created.
She wasn't at all sure of this mood. He wasn't Brian, or even Lord Brian. Just simply her Master, and the part of her that wanted to get lost in his commands, desires, was spinning and swirling in a haze.
"Come with me." He straightened, eased back from her, but as he turned to guide her down the hall, he had a steadying hand on the small of her back, his other holding a firm grip on her fingers.
She was glad for his reassuring hold when they turned the corner and she saw Lord Graham emerging from one of the guest rooms. His servant wasn't with him, likely already in the dining room. Servants acquainted themselves informally before their vampires arrived, since they'd be far more intimate with one another as the night progressed.
She regretted the missed opportunity somewhat, but the ability to avert a chance encounter with Graham had compensated for it. Having the steamy encounter with Brian outside her door had exceeded even that.
Besides, she'd already met Dix. Familiarity with the servant of the vampire host helped smooth the way with the others, because he would set the tone. As much as he could, with vampires calling the ultimate shots.
Because of that, she couldn't stop herself from stiffening at the sight of Graham, cold spearing her vitals. But then Brian distracted her entirely.
Putting her up against the wall, he slammed his mouth down on hers. The earlier kiss had been hot, titillating. This was full domination, his hips forced against hers so her body was hiked up the unyielding surface at her back, his cock an iron bar between her legs. Despite the layers of clothing, she ached to be filled by him. Right here, right now. She craved the reminder that she belonged to him alone, that nothing Lord Graham could do to her tonight could touch that.
His hands tangled in her loose hair, thumbs sliding along the corners of her mouth, over her pulse, taking command of all her senses. She let out a tiny, helpless noise as he deepened the kiss. As his arm tightened around her waist, she felt every angle of his body even more acutely.
He didn't stop there. He took over her mind, showing her what he intended to do to her after the dinner was over and they were back in his room. He was going to borrow an ankle spreader bar from Butch's well-equipped dungeon. He would padlock it onto her fine ankles, put her down on her knees in their room, bind her wrists to a leg of the bed. And then he'd take his time, put his mouth on her rim again, use some oil and make her slick before he'd sink his cock to the balls into her ass.
I need to remind you that every orifice, every thought, every desire, belongs to me. I need to fuck your mouth, your cunt and ass, spill my seed on your breasts, inside of you, mark you mine in every way.
God, yes. She couldn't think beyond that.
He kept scrolling those images through her mind. He might take a break after he fucked her ass. Read awhile, make some project notes, all while leaving her bound. Then he'd start all over again, keeping it going until dawn. He'd leave her chained while he slept so her only thought would be of who her Master was. The male who not only held her life in his hand, but her pleasure, her protection, her very happiness.
I want you to look to me for all of it, depend on me for all of it. The way I depend on you for the same things, as well as for more things than I know how to count.
Stunned, she lifted her head when he broke the kiss. Lord Graham could have been perched on the wall behind him like a coven of dragons; she wouldn't have noticed. Her whole world was a pair of vivid eyes, a firm mouth, and the intensity of her Master's thoughts filling her mind.
Despite the chaos of lust and desire surging through her, she snagged on one thing in those thoughts. You depend on me for your...protection?
Yes. You protect my sense of myself, Debra. The man and the scientist.
He cradled her jaw in both hands, thumbs stroking her throat, making her lift her chin. His eyes were very close. "There is no one at this dinner but me, Debra. Do you understand? Only my desires, my commands."
He shifted his hips, rubbing his cock with unerring accuracy across her clit, making her thighs loosen further, her breath come faster. "Everything you do will make me desire you more. And whatever you're called to do tonight, your Master will demand even more from you when we close the bedroom door behind us at the end of the evening. Understand?"
"Yes, Master."
Closing his hand on the ring around her neck, he caressed the tops of her breasts with his knuckles. "This is a reminder of who you serve, as much as the third mark you bear."
As she thought about tha
t X-mark branded into her flesh, she suddenly realized it looked like the crossed swords on his crest. Or perhaps she was being fanciful.
"No," he said. "I don't think you are. Because it means you're part of my family."
Her gaze lifted to his. He didn't back away from it, didn't say anything that would explain it any differently, make it acceptable for the vampire-servant relationship. She wanted to protest as she had before, ask him not to do this, but her will was growing weak. Everything he was giving her, piece by piece, was filling that empty part of her she'd reconciled to always being empty.
"Good," he said. "To accomplish that, I'll obliterate your will entirely."
Taking her hand again, he escorted her onward. He took his time, giving her time to slow if not completely calm the spinning of her mind. When he reached the corner where they would be in view of the dining room, she was somewhat steadier. Even so, he stopped, gave her a searching look. He was waiting on her.
Lifting her chin, she met his gaze. "I'm ready, Master," she whispered.
He nodded, touched her face with a look of approval that made her feel she could face anything. Then they stepped around that corner together.
§
Graham reminded her of a serpent. She liked snakes and had no fear of them, having handled plenty growing up on her grandfather's acreage. She remembered shaming a boy she'd liked by scooping up one curled in their path when they were hiking. When she'd relocated the creature out of harm's way, she'd turned to find that same boy had practically leaped fifty feet backwards. "It's just a snake," she'd said, puzzled.
Graham's version of a snake made her want to leap back fifty feet. His blue eyes seemed perpetually slitted in calculation, his oval face punctuated by a jutting chin. Lean and sinuous in his movements, he was handsome in a way that seemed...evil to her. As silly as that sounded, her gut told her she was right on target.
Brian was seated across from him. With her standing behind her Master's chair, a servant's normal position at these functions, Graham was in her line of sight. So she focused on Brian's back, the breadth of his shoulders, his hair grazing the collar of his shirt and coat. She could inhale his scent with every breath. He usually wore a light cologne for events such as these, a scent that hinted of smoke and spice.
Confirming Brian was the unofficial guest of honor, Butch had Dix bring the chosen bottle of wine to Brian to sample first. Butch was a known wine connoisseur. As he explained the history and composition of this particular vintage, Dix poured a taste into Brian's glass.
Brian picked up the glass, then lifted a hand out to his side. Come to me.
She moved forward, and his fingers closed over her wrist, drawing her to his side. After he tasted the wine, considered it, he drew her down to him. Curving his hand under her hair, he tasted her mouth, the wine still on his. His tongue caressed her lips discreetly, then he drew back. Releasing her nape, he held onto her wrist, thumb stroking her tripping pulse.
"An excellent vintage, my lord. It meshes well with the taste of my servant. I may take a glass to bed at dawn to mix with her blood."
"A good decision." The Texas overlord obviously appreciated her glazed look of arousal and the revealing qualities of her sparkling dress. "I have a couple of wines I particularly enjoy combined with Dix's blood. They're the type of blends that work well with steak and potatoes, since those are the only things he considers food."
Butch gave his servant a fond look. But thanks to Brian's opening volley, the sexual intensity of the room had gone up several notches. She'd hoped for a low key evening in that regard, but with Brian initiating this, her body was humming, eager to see what he might do next.
I like to keep my servant guessing. Your arousal is perfuming the air around my chair.
"I'd enjoy tasting the wine the same way, Lord Brian," Graham noted. His attention felt like he was peeling the clothes off her, evoking far different feelings from Butch or her Master.
"Certainly, Lord Graham." Brian pushed the bottle across the table, a smooth movement that had enough force behind it to require Graham to catch hold of it before it went off the edge and hit the floor. "Your servant looks like her flavor might likewise compliment the taste."
Graham's servant was Jia-Li, a quiet Asian woman who could have been a statue behind the chair. A very beautiful one, her dark hair plaited into a braid that reached her hips. Her silk kimono was sapphire blue with gold embroidery. Her small feet, while not presented in the mutated size of traditionally bound feet, were bound as tightly as possible, apparently to represent the idea for just this night. Debra figured the cramped state must be excruciating. Her own heels were like wearing bedroom slippers in comparison.
She could read nothing from Jia-Li's face, but she sensed no pleasure or arousal from her. Every servant was supposed to come to her vampire willingly, that one choice left up to them, even if all choices were his afterward. But how many of them really knew what it meant until they'd done it? Brian had taken an exceptional risk, letting her know what he was when she was a first mark, giving her the choice before the second mark was given. While she couldn't thank him for everything attendant to that choice, she knew now what a risk he'd taken. Even so, she still wouldn't claim to have truly understood what being a third mark would mean. She wasn't sure any human could, or if it could even be properly explained.
Some things had to be taken on faith.
Brian's fingers tightened infinitesimally on her, but when her lowered gaze shifted toward him, he was carrying on a casual conversation with Butch as if totally unaware of her thoughts. Or his insult to Graham, thwarting his intent. However, she noted the sour look on the California overlord's face. Brian had pissed him off. She couldn't deny a small spurt of satisfaction at it, but the coldness in those snake eyes sent a ripple of dread through her.
Dinner was served, and Brian released her so she could step back behind his chair. Conversation was genial, the three vampires visiting from Butch's territory obviously relaxed and friendly with him, deferential and cordial to Graham.
Two of the three territory vampires were a committed couple, an intriguing and rare dynamic in the vampire world. The pair of male vampires, Tucker and Balen, shared a male servant. Tucker, a sharp-dressed, blue-eyed male with long brown hair like silk, was a lawyer who handled Butch's business interests as his tithe to the overlord. Balen looked like a Viking war lord, with thick red hair cut bluntly to his shoulders. He was a chef in a five-star restaurant in Dallas. A rather appropriate choice, since a vampire could only sample food. Their servant, Reed, a comparatively slender male outfitted in severe black with silver touches on his belt, tie pin and tips of his shoes, was his sous chef.
The other vampire visiting from Butch's territory was female. Tia was a tiny black woman with long red braids like the end of a flogger tied in a top knot on her head, the rest of her cranium bare. She managed a community theater in Houston. Her servant Aila was a slender, comparatively conservative-looking female wearing a sleeveless high-necked dress that nevertheless showed off a pair of magnificent breasts, high and firm, the nipples delineated since she was either wearing an open cup bra or none.
Since Debra had noted everyone in the room appreciating that display, it reinforced what she already knew about vampires. They let their appetites guide them, and if something new was placed on the table, they wouldn't let a simple thing like sexual preference keep them from sampling generously.
She also noticed the three vampires were comfortable with their overlord, jumping into the discussions with Brian to bring up topics along the lines of what Butch had asked earlier. It made sense, them taking advantage of Brian's presence to catch up directly on his research. There was also the usual not-so-subtle pumping for Council information that might affect all their lives.
Brian handled it all with smooth diplomacy. In situations like these his family background always showed. He might prefer to be in his lab with Cheetos and his instruments, but he wasn't a shy or awkward conversat
ionalist. If he'd chosen a different career path, he could have been a diplomat or negotiator. Or even a teacher. He presented information well, without ever sounding condescending. On the contrary; as he spoke about his research, his enthusiasm and excitement often made his audience feel a part of it, which had helped him win support for some of his initially more controversial projects.
A couple of times he asked her to elaborate on some of the things he was discussing. As she approached the table, stood at his side, he linked his hand with hers, caressing her fingers, flustering her no small amount, though she was more than capable of answering their questions. She was an able presenter herself and followed the usual rules about public speaking. She swept her gaze over all the participants, even Graham, though she tried to see him as a blurred face, not registering his features.
Dinner for the vampires was a sampling from a dish that involved fresh beef and a mushroom sauce. It won approval from the chef vampire as well as the rest, the meal coupled with a side of marinated vegetables, finishing up with a berry tart. All of the smells indicated Butch's chef knew his business well. Debra found herself anticipating the meal she and the other servants would have at the conclusion of the evening. She hadn't eaten since Dix's sandwich, her stomach too nervous, but once this was over, it would settle and she'd be ravenous.
Brian pushed back from the table as he finished, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. His significant glance brought her to him once more, and he put her on her knees between his feet. Then he began to feed her, offering her pieces from the mushroom beef dish.
That will keep you on your feet a while longer. Noon is too long to have gone without food. Though I notice you didn't save me any of those pan fried potato chips.
The chips are best when fresh and warm, my lord. I didn't want to give you greasy, stale food.